Island
by Honeyfish
Summary: Left behind, Delta and Sinclair know their time is limited and try to survive as best they can.


The moldering walls and leaking windows of the hall were witness to a pair of monsters, the last of their kind, not an endangered species so much as a thing that needed to die, that should not have existed in the first place. Despite their best efforts, Lamb was gone, along with her prodigal daughter and the only thing that would have kept Delta alive.

It was only mere days since they'd escaped in Sinclair's lifeboat that Delta began to act erratically. He'd stare into space for hours or attack things that weren't there. He'd attack Sinclair, who'd fend him off as best he could. He hadn't had the years of splicing that had made Delta into a hulking, barely-human thing. He was just a man in a suit, a suit that didn't fit him, his veins running with a slapdash cocktail that was designed to shut down his motor functions. With nobody commanding him, it made it a little easier to keep walking, but now, nearly a month after the fact, the effects of his slapdash preparation were beginning to show.

He was ashamed to admit it, but it consoled him somewhat to know Delta had it worse. The old Alpha would leave when it was time for Sinclair to sleep, but there was no hiding from the sounds of his pained howling in this echo chamber of a city. He'd heard that kind of primal mourning from the other Alphas who'd lost their Sisters, but back then it'd been like watching an animal wail from the pain of a broken leg. A useless sound that changed nothing, but Delta, he knew Delta wasn't an animal. It wasn't fair that he had to be reduced to this, and it didn't help that Sinclair knew he was one of the men who'd forced him down there.

There was not enough time in the world for him to redeem himself to Delta, but he did what he could. They were both getting worse, day after day, knowing they were slowly being eaten alive. It wasn't so bad at first, with Delta's lapses in attention. He'd help Sinclair walk and Sinclair would keep him focused. Sinclair did enough talking for the both of them, and their scavenging would go a lot quicker when there were stories about the surface, about Panama and Georgia and the times before he'd realized that honesty would get him nowhere. He could kid himself that it was almost like a camping trip as they sat by whatever piece of furniture they were burning that night.

The only time he could get Delta to stay still now was when the Alpha collapsed from exhaustion at the end of one of his fruitless searches for a girl he knew was not there, whom he'd almost certainly never see again. A girl who was out there, changing the world without him. A girl who didn't need him anymore, who'd never needed him like he needed her. Delta's frantic energy was matched only by Sinclair's fatigue as the suit welded to his skin dragged him down further every day. He had to give the kid credit, though. He always came back to make sure Sinclair was somewhere safe, even if he had to carry the man.

That worked for a while, but the broken bond manifested as more than the compulsive need to search and protect. Sinclair didn't notice the blood at first with how filthy Delta already was, until he felt its dampness his own skin as he leaned against Delta on one of those rare nights when the Alpha was too tired to cry.

Spontaneous bleeding was bad enough, but when things like minor cuts from the sharp rim of a soup can wouldn't heal, he knew it wouldn't be much longer for Delta. Slow breakdown. He'd seen it in the men who tested tonics for his company and in Delta's poor broken brothers as he tore through them to get to Alexander, and now it was happening again, closer than he'd ever hoped to witness it. As they sat together by the warmth of a burning piano, splintered almost beyond recognition, he could hardly lift his shaking arms to give Delta a comforting pat on the knee. It was about all he could do at this point.

"Kid," he croaked. He'd always liked the sound of his own voice, narcissistic as that notion was, but now his smooth drawl was cracked and broken as a dry lakebed. "You remember... back when we met, I said we'd get that island together? "

Delta lowed softly, his breath gurgling in the pit of his chest. He might have been listening, or simply exhaling. Either way, Sinclair went on.

"At the time, it was somethin' of a lie, and I'm sorry... Never did get to say that. You were as loyal a partner as I ever had. Anytime, you coulda' left me to die. Drown in that train car, or just leave me behind..." He paused. Delta was silent. He couldn't even be sure he was breathing. "I don't know where I'll be goin' once this is over but... promise me you'll let me know how that island is, alright?" Weakly, he smiled and let his head rest on the wall behind him. As the fire died and the city moaned its dying breaths around them, he fancied he could almost hear the sound of waves beating a white, sandy shore.


End file.
